Sometimes it’s hard to see things that are right in front of us. That includes some truly remarkable things that we’ve come to consider ordinary.
Take wastewater treatment. Pretend for a moment that you don’t know anything about the business — that you’re basically Joe or Jane Citizen. Stand at the inlet to your treatment plant and watch the water flow.
You might wonder: How in the world can they make anything useful out of this filthy, smelly water? And yet, what comes out of your treatment plant? First, clean water — clean enough to protect your receiving stream, maybe clean enough for irrigation. Second, biosolids, a great soil conditioner and fertilizer.
From a hopelessly dirty river of waste, two wholesome products. It’s amazing, isn’t it? At least you would think so if you didn’t know exactly how all the mechanical, biological, physical and chemical processes work.
True appreciation
Instilling that sense of amazement — of wonder — is important to winning the public acceptance and appreciation your facility needs, especially when it comes time for that plant expansion or upgrade, and you need to ask people to spend money.
There’s a big difference between wastewater treatment and most other city services. Take fire protection, for example. Many boys (and some girls, too) at some point dream of being firefighters.
It’s obvious what firefighters do. They help people. They save homes and possessions. They save lives. When they go to work, sirens sound and lights flash and traffic parts and everyone knows something great is happening.
Then there’s wastewater treatment. People flush the toilet and forget it. Great things happen at the end of the pipe where you work, but people don’t think about it, or care, unless there’s an odor problem, or until there’s a permit exceedance and a story about it appears in the local paper.
Standing tall
These differences matter at budget time. In my days as a news reporter, I attended a town budget meeting where a few citizens stood up to complain about a planned increase in spending for the volunteer fire department.
“Chief,” the town chairman said, “would you like to respond to that?”
The fire chief walked up to the front of the room wearing his official shirt and badge. He explained exactly what the increase was for — mainly a new truck and equipment needed to protect the community in the face of growth.
But he didn’t stop there. “Remember,” he said, “that we’re here to protect this town anytime, day or night. We’ve got 30 volunteers in our department. Every one is a fully certified firefighter. And they are all emergency medical technicians. We’re on call 365 days a year, around the clock. I think you’re getting by real cheap with a real good service.”
That discussion was over. The department’s budget passed without another word — not just because of what the chief said but because of what the people already know about the fire department and its importance.
Now it’s your turn
Now, how would the discussion go if you had to get up in public and defend your plant? Could you talk about it in terms as compelling as that fire chief did? What might you talk about? How you’ve met your permit for three years running? Sure. About your people and their qualifications? Of course.
But what about the miracle? Everyone already knew about the fire chief’s miracles. How about yours? You might tell what sanitation would be like in your community if your plant weren’t there. And how people catch smallmouth bass a quarter-mile downstream from your outfall, where 30 years ago they could only catch carp. And how your biosolids help farmers raise healthy crops and replenish their soil.
That’s why your plant is really there — to make your community and surroundings clean, safe, beautiful and healthy. You do that by making valuable products from that filthy water. It’s recycling at its best and most effective.
It may seem like just a day’s work to you. But to your friends and neighbors, it looks an awful lot like a miracle. A miracle makes a great story. So tell it — every chance you get.
